


Anxious Heart

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Gen, Nerves, Panic Attack, fear toxin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9435431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: After a brush with Scarecrow Damian is sure neither he nor his father were affected by fear toxin. Except he's anxious and jumping at shadows. He doesn't get anxious, not like this, not ever, and if it's not fear toxin what is it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part of this idea stems from Unpretty's HC on tumblr about Bruce being hit with an experimental form of fear toxin. So go check her out if you'd like to know more about it.

Neither of them had been expecting an explosion, not with Crane and how volatile his fear gas could be. When Scarecrow stopped his mad dash to escape, Damian expected him to send gas their way. Instead he threw what looked like a grenade at them. Damian went to leap over it and found his momentum stopped as in one swift motion, Bruce grabbed his cape, pulled, and shielded him as the grenade burst open.  

Damian prepared himself for heat and the deafening crack he was sure was next. Instead there was a sputtering of noise and a splash of metal overhead, then nothing. Bruce let him up and both stood to watch white smoke drift in lazy streams out from the impact point. A misfire.

Damian crossed his arms. “Tt, Crane got away.”

Bruce moved towards the small spot of black on the ground and brushed it with his hand. “We’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Damian grumbled, but his heart was racing. It _had_ been close. The whole night had been a series of close calls and surprises. Running into Crane had not been in the plan. They’d been hunting a group believed to be smuggling medicine. The men were supposed to be using the building as a kind of base, but they’d been nowhere to be found, replaced as if by magic with Crane. Scarecrow had bolted, Damian hot on his heels, not a thought in his head about gas masks. Father was right, it could have been a lot worse.

The second half of patrol turned out smoother than the first, not that Damian would be able to tell the difference. His post explosion jitters hadn’t gone away. If anything, they were worse. Everything felt off. He’d decided to attribute it to hypervigilance, he wouldn’t be caught off guard again.

The longer the night went, the worse he felt. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Then he doubted that his feeling, was it dread or something else? He pushed it down for what had to be the tenth time that hour and pressed forward, following Batman as he launched himself at a trio of muggers.

Damian kept eyeing his father, looking for signs of distress on him. If Father was acting odd Damian could assume that they’d somehow run afoul of Crane’s toxin. Perhaps the man had some lingering on him when they found him, or maybe it had already been in the room. Except, Father was normal. He didn’t show a single sign of fear or agitation.

Then it was something to do with Damian himself. He ran a list of his home responsibilities, had he forgotten something his mind was trying to bring back up? He couldn’t think of anything. He called in to check on Grayson, in case it was a premonition. Grayson was fine. Excited to hear from him, expecting to get news of a boring night.

He ground his teeth in frustration. He did not feel this way. Ever. He refused to let it control him, whatever was bothering him, he’d get over. Even if he had no idea what caused it.

Bruce ended patrol early. Damian wouldn’t admit it, but he was relieved to sit in the Batmobile and let his father drive. His nightly routine would surely wash away the lingering anxious thoughts in his head.

The moment he laid down to sleep the silence of his room began to leach away the calm he’d gained from a hot shower and light snack. His sleepy eyes wouldn’t stay closed. His head felt like it was racing from one thought to another, never taking the time to rest on one topic. He tried to focus on something, anything to still it, but the thoughts slipped away like water in his palm.

He slept fitfully, half an hour here, another there. Always waking up shivering with anxiety, his nerves frayed as they drove his exhaustion deeper. Once he thought he’d fallen asleep, only to jerk awake as if he caught himself from falling.

There was a point, close to when he was normally supposed to wake up that his frustration hit its peak, and he felt tears prickle his eyes. He was _tired_ and he wanted to sleep and he wanted the pressure in his chest to go _away._ He resorted to digging out the emergency sleeping pills Alfred had given him for nights where he was plagued with unshakeable nightmares. He took half of one and forced his eyes closed until he passed out.

Alfred woke him, worry creasing his brow, and a thermometer at the ready. Damian was groggy and confused. The sun was too bright, and he didn’t understand why Pennyworth was insisting he take the thermometer.

“I’m fine.” He said pushing it away. “I took a sleeping pill. I couldn’t sleep last night.” It wasn’t until he’d said the words that he realized they would do little to assuage Alfred’s worry. His mind was always slow to catch up when he woke up after taking a pill.

The man put the thermometer away but his frown stayed in place. He didn’t ask Damian’s reasons for the pill. It was an unspoken rule not to ask about nightmares, Damian would always talk if he needed to. He felt a little guilty about letting Pennyworth believe it was nightmares that drove him to medicated sleep, but he was embarrassed enough about his real reason he kept silent.

“I’m fine. Really.” He gave him a small smile that he hoped would convince Pennyworth to stop worrying.

Alfred nodded, but he didn’t lose the worried look on his face until after Damian made it down to the kitchen and started eating a late breakfast.

Damian was feeling better. Every moment the anxiety of the night before was slipping away into what felt like a bad dream. A fluke. He decided. It was a fluke of emotion, something strange to be worried about only if it continued. Even Father had off days, surely Damian could have a few of his own.

It was during training that he began to feel uncomfortable again. It started as a jump at a shadow. He was alone, fighting a practice dummy, when it flashed across his vision. The batarang in his hand tumbled to the ground as Damian jerked back. A moment later Alfred the cat darted into the light. Damian was grateful the batarang had fallen, he might have thrown it in a fit of nerves.

“Not now, Alfred. Go play somewhere else, you’re distracting.” He shooed. Alfred looked at him for a moment, swished his tail, and sauntered away his head held high either oblivious or uncaring of Damian’s mood.

Damian pushed the nerves off as an eagerness to get out and patrol. He’d slept in and wanted to move, more than the cave’s suddenly restricting proportions would allow. His relief at patrol beginning was short lived. Instead of letting him work out the pent-up energy in his body, he felt it coil tighter.

His frustration grew through the night. He was jumping at everything. Car horns, an unexpected movement from his father, even the shadow cast by a moving cloud. It was getting ridiculous. He was Robin, he’d been trained by assassins, he should be fine. He should not feel like someone grasping for calm, and yet he was having trouble controlling his own breathing.

He wasn’t sure when it started, but he began to worry. It wasn’t a single thing, but many. Vague issues at first. Grayson’s heath, Pennyworth being alone at the manor, Todd’s recent radio silence. Then his mind filled with what ifs. What if somewhere else in the city Drake needed them? What if he was too slow tonight and couldn’t help his father? What if he was hurt? He hated seeing Father worried about him.

There were too many, piling high in his brain with no release, and Damian had no idea why. Was it something he’d eaten? His lack of sleep? Puberty even? Grayson had told him that his hormones would be ‘out of control’ but Damian hadn’t thought it would be this way.

He discounted again that it had to do with the previous night’s events. Father was still fine, Damian had been watching him all evening. Not a movement out of place, or a word to betray the same terror building up within him.

They paused in an alley for a moment. Father was consulting some piece of news with Pennyworth, nodding ever few seconds. Damian took the time to try and get a hold on his emotions. His chest was twinged with fear, his stomach a mess, and his mind racing.

“Ready Robin?” Father asked, but his voice sounded far away.

Damian nodded, not trusting his voice. He tried to step forward, but he found he couldn’t move. He was rooted in place, his feet as if they’d become part of the ground, trapped in cement. Father was frowning at him, not quite worried, but not unbothered either.

“You alright?” he asked.

Again, Damian couldn’t find words. His breath had begun to speed up, shallow, and ineffective. He couldn’t tell Father he was afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of. He had no reason to feel the way he did. Father would tell him to chin up, to ignore it, that the terror was a case of overthinking. Suddenly he was terrified that his father would be disappointed in him.

“Robin. Robin!” The urgency in Father’s voice was so distant, like listening to something underwater.

Then he was in front of Damian, kneeling so they were face to face. “Damian, look at me.” It was a command, tight with worry. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Damian couldn’t breathe, not enough to speak, not enough to keep his head from getting light. “Afraid.” He rasped, then a moment later. “I’m afraid.”

The slits in Batman’s mask tightened and his father’s frown deepened. “Afraid? Of what?”

Here it was. The question Damian couldn’t answer. He had no idea and that itself was terrifying. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. The words circled his brain, a loop of terror that he couldn’t stop.

A hand was on his shoulder and Damian jerked back. Father was angry, that was it. He was angry and Damian didn’t know how to respond.

“Damian!” It wasn’t anger that made Bruce’s voice rise, it was fear and Damian’s attention snapped to his father’s face. His face. Bruce had pulled back his cowl and was staring at Damian.

“I need you to listen to me,” Bruce’s tone was even and calm, but his eyes betrayed the worry still there. “You need to breathe deeper or you’re going to hyperventilate. I’m going to count and I want you to breathe in then out when I say ok?”

Damian nodded, his chest and hands shaking. Father started to count and Damian followed his instructions. Over and over until his head felt steady and he could take in a full breath without everything shaking.

“Better?” Bruce asked.

“A little.” Damian answered.

Father nodded. “Good. We’re going home.”

“No!” The word tore from Damian’s throat, and he lurched forward, all panic and limbs again. Bruce caught him and the next moment Damian found himself in his father’s lap, tugged close.

His breath was shaky again, and he lost precious moments trying to catch it. “I’ll be ok.” He said. “There’s nothing for me to be afraid of. Just give me a minute. I can continue patrolling.”

Father’s hand was at his back, hugging him and holding him at the same time. The other hand had gone to push Damian’s hair back from his forehead. Cold air brushed him, and he realized he’d been sweating. The temperature was moderate, but he was shaking again.

“Neither of us are finishing patrol tonight. But you are right. There is nothing to be afraid of.” Father told him, his hand tightening as Damian tried to jerk away again. “And that’s the point.”

At that Damian forced himself to relax a little against his father. “What do you mean?”

Bruce brushed his hair back again. “I don’t think that grenade misfired last night.”

“But, you’re fine.” Damian frowned.

Bruce shook his head. “I thought I was having an off couple of days. I couldn’t be sure of any real effects until now. Alfred told me you didn’t sleep after we got back from patrol, and this confirms it.”

“It’s a toxin?” Damian asked, his heart should have steadied at the realization, but it didn’t. Instead he felt it speed up. At least this time he knew the reason.

Bruce nodded. “It was stupid of me not to have bloodwork done on us both last night. Any brush with Crane is dangerous, but I was tired and anxious for rest.” He was frowning again, but this frown Damian knew well. It was one aimed at Bruce himself, a chide on his own error.

“I watched you.” Damian said. “You seemed fine.”

At this his father gave him a wry smile. “I’ve gotten very good at hiding the fact that I do not always have everything together.”

“How do you do it?” Damian asked, desperate for some technique to help him manage until the gas was out of his system. “How do you cope?” It seemed impossible to him that anyone could function feeling the way he did, but Father could. He must have something to help.

“I force myself to make a decision and keep moving. I know if I stop, I might not ever start again. But–” He paused and looked back down at Damian.

“I don’t want you to think that’s what you have to do. That way of thinking can be a crutch itself. Keep pushing forward, but have someone to talk to.” He said, then a moment later added, “And don’t be afraid to cry, or get angry, or let yourself feel. Trying to ignore your feelings can be dangerous. I know you don’t usually feel this way, but someday you might.”

Bruce picked him up then, cupping his legs under his free arm to keep him from falling. “Now, let’s go home. We’ll get Alfred to help with an antidote, and have a good night’s sleep to scare off any lingering effects.”

Damian nodded, pressing his face close to his father’s chest as Bruce began walking. He had a moment of unsteadiness as Father tugged his cowl back over his face, then his arm was back around Damian, warm and secure. Damian snuggled closer and let his Father’s presence wash over him, he wasn’t all the way better, but he was getting there.


End file.
